


Crash

by Whiskeyjack



Series: trashy 40k wrestling AU [1]
Category: Horus Heresy - Various Authors, Warhammer 40.000
Genre: Alternate Universe - Wrestling, Coming In Pants, Frottage, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Why Did I Write This?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 05:43:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9705752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whiskeyjack/pseuds/Whiskeyjack
Summary: Leman and Magnus let off some steam in the gym.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Unbetaed. Not sorry.
> 
> Title is from a song by Decyfer Down.

Leman felt the back of his neck tingling. It had been doing that ever since Magnus had come into the gym, silently doing his sets behind him, and Leman got the feeling that he was being glared at. He didn’t dare to check in the mirror to see if this was true, in case they accidentally looked at each other, which would have undoubtedly ended up awkward. Or worse, in a fight. 

Their rivalry on stage was well written, and it had gotten to the point where they were fighting each other almost every other week. At first they had been amiable enough outside the ring, but the more Magnus was written as a heel, the more he seemed to resent Leman for his role as a face. Now he wasn’t sure where the kayfabe rivalry ended and where Magnus’s true hatred for him began. 

“Wolf.” Magnus’s rough voice snapped him out of his reverie. “I need you to spot for me.”

The request was unsurprising, as it was almost midnight and they were the only people left in the gym. Leman padded over to the bench, where Magnus had lain down and began flexing his fingers around the bar in preparation. He couldn't help but notice the sheen of sweat on his skin, shadows playing along the sculpted shape of his ribs as Magnus took deep breaths. He was only wearing a pair of shorts, and the deep flush in his chest showed why his moniker was “the red”. His eyes unconsciously traced the bulge of his shorts, and the prickle in his neck brought him back to the moment. 

“Like what you see?” Magnus smirked, showing all his teeth, his eyes flicking up to Leman.

He snorted. “You wish.” But really, he did. Even if he told himself otherwise, the growing heat in his groin proved he was a liar. They were both in compromising positions here, so it was best to get on with it and hope that the other man wouldn't pay too much attention to the growing lump in his pants. 

Magnus lifted the bar with a low grunt, his arms bulging from the effort, while Leman kept his hands just under it. He managed two and a half reps, before Leman had to help him lift it back into its original position. Magnus lay on the bench breathing hard, while Leman threw him a towel, which he caught deftly. 

“Thanks.” Magnus scrubbed it through his hair, the normally unruly mane now somehow tamed into a scruffy ponytail. It was a good look for him, and it was too bad the writers made him fight with his hair down. Leman turned to begin packing his things, but suddenly found himself slammed against the mirrored wall, Magnus’s hand gripping his shoulder to pin him in place. 

“Magnus, what -” He tried not to move, in case he rubbed up against the other man, but he evidently had other ideas, as a hand came up to cup his balls through his shorts. 

“Just returning the favour.” Magnus smirked, pressing his chest closer. “I'm not blind, you think I didn't notice your fucking dick getting hard while your goddamn crotch was above my head?” 

“That wasn't -” But he had to stop and suck a breath in when Magnus rolled his hips up against him. “Fuck.”

“Just admit it, wolf.” Magnus leaned in, his breath so close it tickled the hairs at the nape of Leman’s neck. “You'd get on your knees and let me fuck your face, and then beg me for more.” 

Leman growled, teeth lunging out to bite Magnus in the neck. He tasted blood, tongue darting out to lick it, and he sucked at the salty skin until it turned raw. Magnus had gone a little limp against him, hips still grinding slowly, his hands now coming down to grab at Leman’s ass. Dimly he remembered that he was bare under his shorts, and the sensation of the fabric rubbing against his skin this way was exquisite. Magnus let out a little moan, and his lips detached from skin with a faint pop. 

Unwilling to be the loser in his confrontation, Magnus pinned Leman’s hands at his sides, bracing them against the wall. His sweaty back made the mirror a little slippery, and he tried to wriggle out of the other man's grasp, but Magnus held him in place. The movement made his hips jut out, and Magnus used that to grind down into him,  a rolling thrust that made their hips meet with hot friction. The smooth nylon of their shorts just exacerbated the feeling, and Leman could feel a damp patch where his dick had started leaking. 

He broke out of Magnus’s grasp, hands coming up to tug at the waistband of his shorts and pulling him closer. The air almost seemed thick, like they would explode if someone lit a match. Magnus reciprocated by grabbing his ass, hands snaking up his shorts to knead at the skin. 

He could see Magnus’s cock leaking too, the darker spot in his shorts a dead giveaway. He wanted so bad to grab his dick in his hand, but the friction between them was too much, it was all he could do to keep moving his hips, chasing more contact, more of the heady feeling this was giving him. Their thrusts were getting more frantic, moving toward their climax rather than in some semblance of a rhythm. 

Magnus grunted as Leman slid his hands down his shorts to grab at the other man's ass too, crashing their hips against each other. He felt rather than heard Magnus’s breath hitch, and then he was gasping, his forehead coming to rest on Leman’s shoulder. When he looked down, he saw a bit of come leaking through the fabric of Magnus’s shorts, and it sent a jolt of heat through his legs. The sight was enough to send him tumbling off the edge, and he threw his head back with a low moan as he felt his wet release, not caring that his head hit the wall with a slightly painful thud. Magnus bit into his shoulder gently as they both struggled to catch their breath. 

“Fuck… I should not have done that.”


End file.
